The eternal mockery of the British public is something I am on board with. I enjoy it and actively participate in extracting the urine out of the collective that is known as ‘people from the UK’ (nobody ever calls them that).
But there is one element stereotypical to us Brits that I will not stand for mockery of, gentle as it may be. Yes folks – when we talk about the weather, it is not something to be sniffed at or cast aside as, indeed, worthless prattle.
For you see we are a nation that does not get proper weather. We are not a nation that seems to experience the vast differences in season that other, better countries do. Our winters tend to be a bit colder than our summers, while our springs are only distinguishable from out autumns in the colour and number of leaves on show.
So when we choose to discuss the weather it is because we have been genuinely bewildered by its behaviour, usually because it’s actually gone and tried to do the whole Real Weather thing.
It usually fails and peters out somewhat, but it does try sometimes, in that indomitable British way.
Our need to discuss the weather isn’t because we are boring and rubbish at small talk: it’s because we are constantly in a state of awe at what it is nature throws our way. Be it an actual bit of sunshine for an hour or so in the summer or be it the 370th overcast day in a calendar year – we always have something to be surprised about, so we always have something to talk about.
Basically what I’m getting at is this: what the fucking hell is wrong with the weather why is it raining so much in July and will it please stop so I can at least feel guilty for not going to the beach in the summer again.
Thank you and good night.